


A Little Bit of Heaven Never Hurt No One

by hemakeshimstrongx



Series: The Song Fic Series [14]
Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Babygate (One Direction), Body Shots, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, France (Country), Harry Styles Loves Louis Tomlinson, Humor, Louis Tomlinson Loves Harry Styles, M/M, Smut, Vacation, a smidge of smut, i guess idk, literally this is a lot of fluff, there's some, yea body shots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 01:26:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8308390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hemakeshimstrongx/pseuds/hemakeshimstrongx
Summary: in which harry and louis finally get their winter vacation and head to the south of france.featuring too much wine, too much fluff, and two boys that are still very much in love. {also to the lyrics of 18 by One Direction}





	

**Author's Note:**

> so this is another fic!! the next one you see from me will be for the winter fic exchange. this is based on a prompt where louis and harry take their vacation to a tiny town in the south of france and they drink wine and eat chocolate and realize that no matter what they're always gonna be crazy in love with each other.  
> title is from John Mayer's "On The Way Home"

 

**i’ve got a heart**

**i’ve got a soul**

**believe me i**

**will use them both**

“I’m never going to let them target you.” Louis murmurs into the dark room, not sure Harry’s even awake. He continues talking anyway, running gentle fingers through Harry’s hair. “I won't let them do anything that could hurt you, emotionally or career-wise.” 

“I don't want you to keep doing it to yourself,” Harry replies. “You've been doing it for too long.” 

Louis takes a deep, shaky breath. “I know. But Haz, you're too good. You're way too beautiful to have them to target you with their stunts and fucking campaign smears. I don't want you to face that. Please. Let me continue to do this one thing, the one thing that I can control right now. Protecting you is the  _ one  _ thing I still have a say over.” 

There's silence. Part of Louis hopes that by some miracle Harry fell asleep, but he feels Harry nod. “Fine. But only because I know you’d do it whether I agreed or not.” 

Louis laughs softly, kissing Harry’s head. “I think we need a vacation.” Harry says decidedly. 

“What kind of vacation? Wanna go lay on the beach on some private island?”

“I've already been thinking…” Harry says slowly. Louis laughs again, propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at his boy. “I found this tiny town in the South of France. There's this cozy flat we could rent out.” 

“And stay cooped up for the entire winter?” Louis quirks an eyebrow. “That doesn't really sound like a getaway.”

“No! It’d be the complete opposite! This town is so small and low-key and under the radar that no one would even  _ look  _ at us there. They wouldn't  _ care. _ ” 

That sounds a little too good to be true. But Harry’s so passionate about it, so sure and excited and clearly  _ really  _ wants to go to this no-name town in France. Louis agrees that it's where they’ll spend their well-deserved winter vacation.

**we made a start**

**be it a false one I know**

**baby I don't want**

**to feel alone**

If a man came up to Louis and said “you can tell me one thing you never want to do again, and I will make it so you never have to”, Louis would immediately tell the man that he never wants to set foot on another plane. He's been on far too many over the last few years. Whenever it's possible, he takes the tour bus from city to city just so he doesn't have to get on another damn plane.

But this plane ride, a private one with only one stewardess and the pilot and Harry, Louis doesn't really mind. It took a lot of convincing to finally get their trip. When Harry told their team that they wanted this – the being in public, not having a team there, no security – Louis’ pretty sure it would've been nicer if they just spit in their faces, told them no and called it a day. The boys got a lecture. A hundred questions. Another lecture. Finally they sent someone to check out this town and were proven wrong. Apparently it's everything that Harry said it was. Quiet. Very sparsely populated. Farmer’s markets and trails to hike. Nobody would spare them another glance. 

So they're here now, Harry’s sitting on the couch reading his favourite book (something by Charles Bukowski, Louis thinks). It's silent for a while. Suddenly, Harry says, “do you think after this, everything will get better?”

“One trip to a secluded town in France isn't going to fix everything.” Louis replies, continuing to thumb through his magazine. 

“I know that,” Harry slaps his book shut and comes to sit across from Louis. “I mean, like, next year. Will things get better?” 

“I don't know. I want it to. But I don't want to promise you that it will.” 

“Can you promise me that we’ll be okay? I know this year was tough on both of us and next year could be even worse. Can you promise me that we’ll never give up?” Harry asks his questions without hesitation, without thinking twice about them. Louis’ always admired his bravery.

“I’ll promise you that. We’ll never give up.” Louis says softly, nodding. “We won’t stop fighting.” 

Harry smiles at this, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Louis’ cheek. “I think as long as we stay together we’re gonna be fine.” 

“I think you’re right,” Louis replies, smiling.

**so kiss me where i lay down**

**my hands pressed to your cheeks**

**a long way from the playground.**

They get to France and the sun is shining and it isn’t fucking  _ freezing  _ out, which is a good change from what they’re used to. There’s a brief debate over who’s going to drive the rental car to their flat, one that Louis wins. 

“It looks so nice,” Harry says softly. “Peaceful.”

“Total opposite of what we’re used to, right?” 

Harry hums. “This is gonna be good. For us, I mean. It’s gonna be really good. It’ll be a really good thing. Quiet and alone and we get to be ourselves.”

Louis smiles. He thinks that may be what he’s looking forward to most - getting to be themselves. They’ll be able to get out of the car at this little flat and Louis will get to steal more than a glance at Harry. He’ll steal an entire moment, steal a handhold and maybe even steal a kiss. 

“What’re you thinking about?” Harry asks suddenly, grabbing Louis’ hand firmly. 

“How do you know I’m thinking?”

“Because you haven’t said anything. Usually your mouth is running a million miles a minute, especially when you’re driving. You get angry at other drivers and run your mouth at them.” 

“I’m thinking about you. And how amazing this vacation is going to be. I read online that this is a great town to spend Christmas in.” 

Harry hums, rolling his window down. “They have a Christmas market every year. I’m excited. Like I said, this is gonna be good.” 

“This is it, right?” Louis asks, pulling to a stop in front of the address on the paper Harry printed out before they left. “s’cute.” 

Harry looks at their surroundings. Situated in a tiny village of similar houses, there’s a cute little table nook outside, someplace Harry thinks they might eat breakfast some mornings. “Yes, this is it.” 

“Okay. Let’s get our stuff out and get inside. Time to christen the entire fucking place.” 

Harry laughs, throwing his head back. “We’re not having sex, we just got here!” 

Louis throws his door open and heads around to get their luggage from the trunk. Harry comes around as well, leaning against the car. “Are you going to help or are you just going to stand there and stare at me?” Louis asks, even though he has no real intention of making Harry take any of the bags in. 

“I want you to kiss me.” Harry replies simply, arms folded over his chest. 

Louis smiles. “We can do that?” 

Harry reaches forward and grabs Louis by his shirt. “Yes, we can do this.” They kiss for a moment before Louis draws back. “This is nice,” Harry declares. 

They take their stuff inside, and Louis is pleased to see how cozy the place is. It’s going to be a nice, quiet, homely place to spend some time alone. They leave the luggage by the door to look around the house. “Look at how cute the kitchen is!” Harry exclaims. “I can cook you breakfast here wearing nothing more than your favourite tee shirt.” 

“I like the way that sounds,” Louis smiles. “Let’s keep looking around.” 

There’s a small round table in the kitchen with two wicker chairs, perfect for candlelit dinners and early morning breakfast. The bedroom has a queen sized bed that Harry says will be  _ perfect  _ for their nightly activities and a balcony where they’ll probably spend a lot of time. The bathroom is pretty spacious, a standing tub and separate shower that Harry again remarks will be perfect for sexy shenanigans. 

“What do you wanna do now?” Harry asks, sitting down on the edge of the bed. 

“We need to go shopping. Pick up a few things. Maybe just go out for dinner tonight, find a cute restaurant.” 

“Or you could eat me.” 

Louis lets out a laugh, sitting down on the bed next to Harry. “You’re so horny.” 

“I’m  _ happy.  _ We’re here and we get to be ourselves, we get to be happy and together.” 

“So happiness makes you horny then?” 

“ _ You  _ make me horny.” 

“This is so different,” Louis says. “This is so different than what we’re used to, isn’t it?” 

“Let’s go out for dinner,” Harry smiles. 

**i have loved you**

**since we were eighteen**

**long before we both thought**

**the same thing**

They find a nice restaurant within walking distance of their flat, one that seems very quiet and not crowded. When they walk in, the hostess doesn’t do a double take, doesn’t freak out in any way, she just seats them at their table and says someone will be with them in a moment.

“I’m going to get the most expensive wine they have,” Harry states, looking down at the menu. “And then we’re going to stop at that little market we saw on our way here and get enough alcohol and food to last us a little while.” 

“We’re  _ going  _ to? No question about it? You know, you could afford to be a little bit nicer when you're trying to get what you want. I'm the one buying all your drinks, after all.” Louis tries to be serious, make it like he’s truly scolding Harry, but he only ends up breaking into a smile. 

“I  _ am  _ sucking your dick later. I think that kind of makes us even, don't you think?” 

Louis’ caught off guard at Harry’s reply. He instinctively looks around to see if anyone may have heard. But they're all chatting amongst themselves, it's like everyone's in their own private bubble. Not paying the pair another glance. “You don't have to be on high alert. This is different here, Louis.” 

He takes a deep breath, sinking further into his chair.  _ It's different. Forget about everything.  _ “Alright. What’re you getting, beautiful?” 

Harry gets his expensive wine, Louis gets a bottle of Corona which the waitstaff are all too happy to keep rolling out. Louis drinks reasonably and responsibly; after all he's got his boy sitting in front of him and doesn't want to miss a thing (alcohol sometimes makes him miss things). 

“We’re not gonna talk about shit while we’re here,” Harry says around a mouthful of spaghetti. Louis gives him a funny look. “About what's going on. I don't want to hear about Briana or anything else because it defeats the purpose of all this.” 

“Deal. We won't even think about any of that.” Louis replies without thinking twice. 

When they get the check, Louis doesn't let Harry see the total even though it really isn't that big of a deal. It's the concept, playing into this whole vacation idea. They stop at the little market on their way back up to their flat, Harry thankfully isn't too wine-drunk quite yet. 

Two bottles of rather pricy wine, a bottle of pretty champagne, a bottle of some French vodka and several delicious-looking snacks later, the boys are finally back at the flat. Harry puts things away into the fridge while Louis pours them unreasonably large glasses of wine. 

“I’m glad we’re getting to do this,” Harry sighs, tipping his head back and looking up at the sky. “I love you.” 

Louis reaches for the wine bottle and pours himself more. “I love you too, baby.” 

“We're gonna be okay. We always have been, even after all this time.” 

“I know. I promise you, we are.” 

**to be loved and to be in love**

**all I can do is say**

**that these arms were made**

**for holding you**

**I wanna love like you**

**made me feel**

**when we were eighteen**

Louis wakes up in the morning to sunlight pouring through the balcony windows and no signs of a hangover. Harry’s also standing in front of the mirror with only a towel around his hips, which is nice. Louis thinks France might be a little bit magical. 

“Morning,” he murmurs, dropping his head to the pillow again. He keeps his eyes on Harry, though. 

Harry turns around, smiling. “Hi. I took a shower. Would've woken you and we could've gone together, but I figured I’d let you sleep.” 

“Mhm. It's okay. What are our plans for today?” 

“We can explore? Or stay here. I can make you breakfast if you want and we can feed each other strawberries."

Louis smiles. “Don't really care what we do. Could just sit in silence for all I care.” 

“As long as you're with me, right?” Harry grins, pulling a pair of boxers on before climbing back into bed with Louis. “We could sleep for a little while longer. Least now I’m clean for you.” 

Louis hums contentedly, kissing Harry’s shoulder. “Sounds great to me, love.” 

They stay in bed, letting the sunlight slowly coat the room while they remain in each other’s arms. “Louis,” Harry whispers, tipping his head up to look at Louis. 

“What is it baby?” 

“I wanna make out for a little bit,” Harry says, turning around so he’s facing Louis. “Just a little bit. Then we can get up and start doing stuff.” 

“You’re asking me if we can make out?” 

“I’m gonna go ahead and kiss you now, anyway. I just thought I’d make my intentions clear.” 

Louis wouldn’t have cared if Harry just started kissing him. He would’ve kissed back, no questions asked. He’ll always kiss back. So they keep lying there, now making out, and maybe getting a bit too heated for a pair of boys who would really like to try to do something with the day. “Mhm,” Louis groans softly, running gentle fingers over Harry’s back. 

“Mhm?” Harry mocks, kissing the corner of Louis’ mouth. 

“We should get up.” 

“Yeah, let’s do that.” 

When they finally drag themselves out of bed, Louis forces himself to take a shower and brush his teeth and put on a pair of skinnies and tries not to think about how he’d much rather stay in bed with Harry for the rest of the day and, yeah, the rest of their vacation too. 

They head out into the narrow streets, hand in hand. Louis’ heart is racing and he wonders if Harry’s is doing the same. “Did you get me a Christmas present?” Harry asks, sounding curious. 

“If I did, I’m not gonna tell you what it is.” 

Harry sighs. “Why can’t you just tell me? I always hate waiting.” 

Louis laughs. “I know you hate waiting. But that’s the whole point, is to wait. It’s supposed to be a surprise. A present.” 

“You really won’t tell me? You  _ never  _ tell me. Not even a hint. Or just part of it.” 

“I’m not going to tell you either,” Louis shakes his head. “Let’s go in here.” 

“This is an antique store.” 

“And?” Louis asks, holding the door open for Harry. 

“You hate places like this. That’s why when we remodel at home you’re gonna take the electronics and I’m gonna take the decorating details. You don’t like little places like this.” 

“This is a vacation. Things are different here. And, besides.  _ You  _ like places like this, so that means I’m gonna go in here with you. And I’m gonna buy you whatever you want. Even if you’re not sure what we’d do with it, we’re still gonna get it.” 

Even when he says he doesn’t want something, Louis can tell that Harry  _ really  _ wants whatever it may be. So he picks whatever it is up and holds onto it anyway, all while trailing Harry around the little shop. “Do you think this would look good on our mantle?” Harry asks, holding up a rather complex looking picture frame. Louis doesn’t really like it, but he smiles and nods anyway. “I think it will. We should get it.” 

“So then let’s get it,” Louis somehow manages to smile even wider. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” Harry rolls his eyes, and Louis’ mouth quickly turns to a frown. “It’s creepy. You’re always smiling at me.” 

“I’m in love with you and I’m gonna stare at you all I want. Especially now that we’re allowed to do that here.” 

They get to the counter (finally) and Louis puts up the stuff Harry had previously put back, much to Harry’s shock. “What’re you doing?” he asks softly, watching the cashier total everything up. 

“You wanted this stuff.” 

“Um, no I didn’t? I put it back!” 

“You wanted it. I picked it up because you wanted it. So, we’re getting it.” 

Harry looks at him, warm smile on his face and warm feeling spreading throughout his entire body that he hopes never goes away. “I love you,” he whispers, leaning over and kissing Louis on the cheek. 

**i wanna love like you**

**made me feel**

**when we were eighteen**

The flat smells  _ delicious.  _ Louis isn’t sure exactly what it smells like, but he knows that the second he comes through the door, it smells like heaven. “What are you cooking, love?” he asks, placing the brown bag of groceries on the table.

“ _ Sole Meuniere. _ ” Harry replies, glancing over his shoulder. “Did you get what I asked you to?” 

“Uh, more vodka, another bottle of wine, chocolate crepes from the bakery and... parsley?” he takes everything out of the bag as he says it, placing the items on the table.

“You’re the best.” 

“Are you planning on spending this entire vacation in a drunken, chocolate-coma haze?” 

“Are you complaining?” 

Louis chuckles, putting his hands on Harry’s hips and kissing the back of his neck. “I’m definitely not complaining. Feel free to keep my fucking loaded.” 

“Sexed out, too. You forgot that one.” Harry adds. “There’s plates in that cabinet. And wine glasses, too. Or would you rather something different with dinner?” 

“What goes best with… what’d you say it was? Solo manure?” 

Harry cackles, shoving Louis away. “It’s gonna be really fucking good solo manure and if you don’t knock it off you won’t get any.” 

Louis turns to the cabinet and gets down two plates, gets forks and knives and the wine glasses. “What do you want to drink, my love?” 

“Just wine. And then you can sit down. This is just about ready.” 

“You don’t need me to do anything else?” 

“No. Sit down and let me feed you your solo manure.” 

A moment later, Harry’s plated the meal and they’re sitting across from each other. “Please don't watch me take a bite out of this,” Louis begs, cutting into his meal.

“I wanna know if you like it. And I’m in love with you, so I'm gonna stare.” he winks, proud of stealing Louis’ line. 

The meal is delicious. Louis’ always admired Harry’s cooking. He can't recall one repulsive meal. There's been burnt, over seasoned, under seasoned, experimental and perfected, and Louis wouldn't trade any of them. He’d rather try Harry’s new vegetarian whatever than order a box of Dominos and call it a night. 

“Do you ever miss it?” Harry asks, taking a sip from his wine. “Or… regret it.” 

“Regret what?” 

“Taking all this on.” 

“I thought we weren't going to talk about this,” Louis arches his eyebrows. He definitely didn't imagine that conversation on the plane. Right? 

“I just wanna know. Then we’re gonna finish eating, get a bit tipsy and finally have some good sex here. But I wanna know. Do you ever wish it were different?” 

“I always wish it were different. I wish we didn't have to do what we do. But I never, not for one second, wish that I didn't have you, wish that I didn't have to do all this just to keep you. I told you, Haz, we’re not going to stop fighting.  _ I’m  _ not going to stop fighting.” 

Harry smiles sadly. “Sometimes I just wish we could go back to the beginning.” 

“For now we can pretend that this is the beginning. Everything is just like the beginning.” 

Pretending is going to have to be good enough. Louis’ never been big on playing pretend. His sisters played all the time, making up imaginary worlds where they slayed dragons and walked on high fashion runways. But he never really got involved; Louis was always one more for reality. He played sports – reality. He looked at girls (and maybe the boys) – reality. He wanted to be a star footie player – a dream. Dreaming and playing pretend are very different things. Louis still dreams now. He dreams of Harry, of vacations like this. Of the day they can come out and say  _ we’ve been together all along and don't give a fuck what you've got to say about it.  _

**we took a chance**

**God knows we tried**

**yet all along I knew**

**we’d be fine**

“Hey Haz?” Louis asks, running the plate under the warm water. Harry hums. Louis doesn't have to look to know he's got his lips wrapped around the ring of his wine glass. “How come you asked that question before? About regretting this.”

“I don't know. It's just a lot sometimes, I guess. And I know there's a lot of people who would probably benefit from us splitting up. And I know that would probably make a lot of things easier. Easier for you and me and them.” 

Louis laughs. “I've got ink for you all over my body. It wouldn't be easier and neither of us would benefit.”

“You know what I mean,” Harry sighs, pushing himself up on the counter beside the sink.

“Yeah, I do.” Louis nods. “I don't want it to be easy, though. When I dreamed about love when I was younger, yeah, it wasn't like  _ this  _ exactly. But I certainly never dreamt of it being easy. I didn't dream of sitting in wildflower fields and making flower crowns and having halos above our heads and not a care in the world.”

“What did you dream about then?”

“It was never perfect. I always saw a problem, something that caused pain and hurt and angst. Something that everybody always assumed would destroy my lover and I. I don't know. But it was never easy. It always hurt and I always woke up gasping for air. I never, ever expect us to be easy.”

“Now I’m just a lover?” Harry asks lowly, turning the sink off for Louis. “I get what you're saying, lover. You want messy.”

“I don't want messy—”

“We can pretend for now, can't we?”

Louis is silent for a moment. He watches Harry lean in closer. Bite his lip. Already playing with the hem of his tee shirt. “You're trying to seduce me.” Louis deadpans.

_ Duh. Do you need a big flashing sign that says COME FUCK ME!!! above my head?  _ “Depends,” Harry says instead, “is it working?”

“Definitely.”

**so pour me a drink**

**let's split the night wide open**

**and we’ll see everything we can**

**living love in slow motion**

  
“You’re going to spill wine on the bed,” Louis says softly, making no effort to move. 

“It’s okay. We’ll get it out. It’s only a red wine stain.”

“This isn’t a stain of red wine, I’m bleeding love.”

Harry laughs, reaching for the bottle and abandoning his glass on the bedside table. He leans down to kiss Louis first. They’d both rather kiss each other a hundred times over before they bring their lips to another bottle of anything. “I love you so much,” Louis whispers, not caring that he’s really whispering it right into Harry’s mouth.

“I love you too.”

They keep kissing, ignoring the bottle of wine and not really caring whether or not it spills all over the bed. “We’ve got a bottle of vodka in the kitchen,” Harry says, kissing the corner of Louis’ jaw. “And you’re shirtless right now, and I’m not doing body shots off of you.”

“I don’t seem to be doing body shots off of  _ you  _ either.” Louis says thoughtfully. “There’s something terribly wrong with this.”

Harry grins, getting up and going to the kitchen. He comes back with said bottle of vodka and an even bigger grin on his face. “You’re so hot,” he says, straddling Louis’ hips and cracking open the bottle.

Louis laughs, staring up at his  _ beautiful  _ (truly stunning) boy. “You’re not too bad yourself.” 

“This might be cold. But I’m not really sure.” Harry warns, positioning the bottle near Louis’ collarbones. He tips it slightly, so the liquid trickles down the center of Louis’ chest. Then he hunches over, runs his tongue up Louis’ stomach. “You taste good.”

“You’re obscene,” Louis gasps, trying to keep his shit together. Which is very hard, given the incredibly hot boy in his lap licking fucking  _ vodka  _ off of his chest. It doesn’t help that Louis’ head over heels in love with Harry.

“Do you think I could…” Harry positions the bottle where Louis’ collarbones dip and create pretty, deep pockets where the shower water usually pools. He pours a splash of vodka into the pocket, making Louis laugh and in return causing it to spill over. Harry bends down and licks it up nonetheless. “Don’t move when I do this. I really wanna try it.”

“You want to drink from my collarbones? Like a fucking dog?”

Harry giggles. “Well, when you say it like that…”

“Go ahead. I won’t move this time, I promise.”

It works, much to Harry’s enjoyment. Louis’ enjoying it quite a bit as well. “Let me do you now,” he says, taking the bottle from Harry’s hand.

He makes Harry sit back and doesn’t waste a single second before pouring the vodka over his smooth chest. “You taste like vodka,” he reports, licking his lips. “And a bit like honey, I think. Which is weird. And kind of salty.”

“Well you’re pouring vodka over me. And the honey is probably my body wash. Or the scent of the lover I saw before you…” he pauses, wanting to fully hear and observe Louis’ laugh. “And the salt is probably sweat.”

“We’re working up a sweat here?”

“Mhm. I’m not complaining though. At all.” He grinds his hard-on up into Louis’ thigh for emphasis.  

“Vodka stays away from my dick. And yours.” Louis warns. “But anything up here…”

He’s a tease with it, is the thing. Louis never, ever passes up an opportunity to tease Harry, whether it be in the bedroom or outside of it. The bedroom teasing is always the worst, Harry has learned. No amount of playful banter will amount to the lengthened teasing he faces in the bedroom. Louis draws it out, makes Harry beg, makes him squirm.

“I think if you put your tongue on me again I’m just gonna come right here.”

Louis chuckles, coming up and kissing Harry slowly. Again, they abandon the alcohol. Harry hopes it’s for the last time. He wants to focus on other things now. They kiss like they have all the time in the world, and they really do. No one’s knocking on the door telling them to hurry up or quiet down or close the curtains. The balcony doors are wide open right now and both boys find that to be one of the most wonderful things in the world. Nobody can see them from the street. Nobody is  _ trying  _ to see them from the street.

Louis slides a hand down Harry’s torso, feeling out his collarbones and his ribs and his abs all the way down to his hipbones. He keeps his fingers light the further down he gets, still teasing. “Please,” Harry whispers.

“Ah. What was that?” Louis singsongs, fingers hovering  _ right  _ over where he damn well knows where Harry wants them.

“I said please.” Harry groans, tipping his head back. He doesn’t like giving in like this, but sometimes he’s got to.

“Gladly, Mister Styles.” Louis grants finally, wrapping a hand around Harry’s dick. “This is all you wanted, right? That’s why you suggested we lay here and do fucking body shots off each other.”

“I-I knew you wouldn’t be able to help yourself,” Harry replies honestly. Honesty is always the way to get more of what he wants. That’s how this works.

“Mhm. You’re greedy, then?”

Harry shakes his head quickly. “No! Never! Always want whatever you give me. Always, Lou.”

Louis laughs softly, catching Harry’s lips in a slow and dirty kiss so he can’t fucking talk anymore. They communicate now through gestures, through gasps and moans, through touches and kisses. The only sounds that fill the room are their heavy breathing and any noise drifting in from outside. Their bodies move together slowly, filthily, because they’ve got all the time in the world.

“You want me to fuck you?” Louis asks (their first words after a few long, heated moments are nothing  _ but  _ romantic).

Harry shakes his head. “I like this. Fuck me later. In the shower.” 

And, of course, Louis is all too quick to agree to Harry’s wishes. He doesn’t mind, never has and probably never will. Louis always aims to make Harry happy, make him comfortable, but right now he’s aiming to make him feel  _ good.  _ Like, really fucking good. Groundbreaking, earth-shattering, Louis’-name-is-the-only-thing-he-can-say Good.

“I want you to tell me when you’re close,” he instructs, speeding up the movement of his hand ever so slightly.

“Not going to take long,” Harry murmurs, gripping Louis’ arm tightly.

“Want you to moan for me. Those balcony doors are wide open and nobody’s going to give us hell if they can hear you moan.”

And it's like flipping a switch, always is. As soon as he’s got permission to moan and beg and plead, Harry’s doing it. He can barely get the sentence out when he warns Louis that he's coming, but Louis doesn't really mind.

“I fucking  _ love  _ you, you know that?” he asks, touching Harry’s cheek with his free hand.

Harry grins lazily. “You may have mentioned it a few times, I think. C’mon, let me finish you off.”

**kiss me where I lay down**

**my hands pressed to your cheeks**

**a long way from the playground.**

“Wake up,” Harry whispers harshly. Right in Louis’ ear. Louis just wants to sleep. Besides, Harry’s supposed to be waking him up gently with soft words and blowjobs. Not aggressive tones right in his ear.

“How come?” Louis asks, pressing his face into the pillow.

“We can see the sunrise. Also I want to get to the street market before it's too crowded. Also the sunrise.”

Louis smiles, pushing himself up. “Do I have time to brush my teeth?”

Harry kisses him gently. “Yes.”

A few minutes later they're both sitting on the balcony with cups of tea Harry prepared. He’d been up for a while, apparently, just waiting for the damn sun to come up. Louis’ not really looking at the sunrise, in all honesty. His eyes are locked on Harry, who is really the one focusing on the sunrise.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?” Harry asks, sounding a bit breathless.

Louis nods, resting his chin on his hand. “It's gorgeous.” (he's not looking at the sun).

Harry looks over at him. “You're ridiculous.” he snorts, looking back over the balcony. “We may never see another sunrise as beautiful as this one.”

“I think I'll take my chances.” Louis smiles, beginning to feel warm as the sunlight coats everything around them. It paints Harry in warm, soft orange light and makes him look stunning. Harry suddenly moves to pick up a camera Louis hadn't even realized he was holding. “Have you had that here the entire time?” he asks. He’s watching Harry closely as he holds the camera up towards the rising sun.

“Nah. Just pulled it out of my ass. You didn't find it up there?”

Louis laughs. Harry turns the camera on him and snaps a picture. Louis’ used to this by now, he doesn't bother putting up a fight to get it to stop. “Make sure you send that one to my fucking mum,” he says instead of putting up a true fight.

Harry sticks his tongue out. “You know I’m going to.”

“Can we go get ready now? You wanna go to the market.”

“We’re gonna get enough stuff to make sure we don't have to leave this flat until after Christmas.”

**to be loved and to be in love**

“Try this,” Harry says, extending a grape to Louis, “fresh.” 

Louis opens his mouth immediately, letting Harry feed him. “Mhm. We should get some of these.”

“You don’t like grapes.” Harry giggles.

“These are French grapes. Besides, haven’t we been pretending lately?”

“Yeah, we have.” Harry smiles softly. “Okay, grapes it is.”

“We need more chocolate crepes. Because we ate the ones you made me get last night.”

“I didn’t  _ make  _ you get them.” Harry rolls his eyes. “But you’re right, we do need to get more. They were good.”

They leave the street vendors with tons of fresh fruit and even a loaf of homemade bread that Harry couldn’t  _ resist  _ buying. They stop at the bakery, and actually have to wait for a fresh batch of the beloved chocolate crepes. “Would you like to try one?” the young woman behind the counter asks, extending a sample of the freshly baked treat.

Harry takes it immediately, taking a bite before Louis can. Louis laughs though, watches Harry eat the entire damn thing without sharing. He leans forward, kissing the chocolate from Harry’s lips. “Mhm,” he groans happily, nodding his approval.

“We’re getting a bunch of these.” Harry concludes, smiling at the girl behind the counter.

As they head back up to their cozy little flat Louis can’t help but realize that they haven’t really gone anywhere. His little sisters thought he’d come back with tons of pictures of them doing really cool things but so far all he has is the pictures on Harry’s camera and sneaky pictures that Louis himself has taken of Harry. But he realizes he doesn’t care when Harry grabs his hand with such confidence and effortlessness that Louis almost feels overwhelmed. They’re able to do this here. Nobody cares. Nobody even notices them.

“I’m in love with you,” he states. If he wasn’t confident in the phrase before (honestly, there’s never been a time that Louis hasn’t meant it) he’s certainly confident in it now. More so than ever. He feels love magnetized.

“I know you are. I’m in love with you too.”

“I want you to marry you.” He says, unlocking the door to the flat. “For real, I wanna marry you. Like, tuxedos and family and a band and a dance floor and everything. I don’t just want to keep giving you rings and waiting for the day we can come out.”

“Is this your proposal?”

“I’ve already proposed to you.”

Harry hums and shrugs halfheartedly. “Maybe you should try again.”

Louis frowns. Harry’s so goddamn stubborn sometimes. “Oh. Well, then let me. Tonight.”

“You’re gonna tell me that you plan to Officially Propose? Your methods, while adorable, are extremely flawed.” Harry smiles, kissing Louis gently on the mouth. “I’m gonna go take a shower since I didn’t this morning. Feel free to join me.”

He leaves Louis in the kitchen, mind racing a thousand miles a minute. Louis looks at the bag of groceries on the table and starts putting them away in the fridge as music from Harry’s portable speaker starts flowing through the flat. He glances at their cellphones, which have sat relatively untouched since they got here days ago. Louis reaches for it, ignoring all of the notifications and going right for his messages.

_ hey, need a favour. _

His mum replies almost immediately.  _ What is it? Enjoying your holiday? _

_ yes we are. need to know how to make chicken. parma ham. you know. _

_ You’re cooking dinner??!! LOL. I’ll send you the recipe since you don’t remember. And I won’t tell Harry. _

_ you’re the best!! x _

Louis looks at the recipe his mother sends and goes through what they have at the house. Everything’s here, as if Harry purchased the right ingredients because he  _ knew  _ Louis was going to want to cook this meal. As if Harry planned this. Knowing Harry, he probably did. He starts preparing the food, taking a break to head into the bedroom and see what Harry’s doing.

The music is still playing softly, Harry sitting in the center of the bed staring at a bottle of black nail polish. “Hi, love.” Louis says softly, sitting across from him. “What are you up to?”

Harry shrugs, dropping the nail polish onto the mattress. “Nothing.”

Louis picks up the nail polish and looks at it. “Want me to do it for you?”

“I don't think I want to.”

“You should. I’ll let you do mine.”

“You're supposed to be cooking dinner,” Harry smiles, snatching the bottle back. “I can smell it already. Don't burn anything.”

“I won't. Don't worry.”

**I wanna love like you made me feel**

**when we were eighteen**

Harry comes down with three nails painted on each hand. Louis kisses him and tells Harry he loves him. “Sit down. Wine?”

“Beer, I think. We got that six pack earlier.”

Louis nods. He sets Harry’s plate down before grabbing two beers from the fridge. “Chicken wrapped in parma ham, stuffed with mozzarella. No potatoes, though, sorry.”

“Don't need them.” Harry smiles. “Looks delicious. And you didn't burn the flat down.”

“So.” Louis says pointedly, cutting into his chicken. “Have a… proposition for you.”

Harry grins even wider, waiting for Louis to continue. “We’re gonna get married. We’re gonna put on tuxedos and you'll paint your nails blue. I’ll let you do mine green. And we’ll say I do in front of all our family and friends and that'll be it. We’ll dance and sing and drink and have sex.”

“I don't have much of a choice, do I?”

Louis quirks an eyebrow. “Do you have a different answer than yes?”

“Nope. Never will. Ask me. Again, like you did the first time.”

“Harry Styles. Will you marry me?”

“Yes, Louis Tomlinson, I will.”

Louis breaks out into a grin. “I haven’t got a ring for you at the moment, but you can still start planning a wedding.”

He’s lost track of the amount of times they’ve proposed to each other. Louis loves the way Harry reacts, he loves the way Harry proudly wears any new ring. Whenever he proposes it feels like that’s their little moment of pure bliss, something that other people can never take away from them no matter how hard they may try to. He says it all the time, calls Harry  _ Harry Tomlinson,  _ will get down on one knee and make a big show when they have a bit too much to drink. They’re always special, though. But this proposal is the real one, this is the one that they’re finally going to fully act on, the one that launches the full-fledged wedding planning. Harry also thinks they may have said that about the last proposal, but it’s whatever.

“This is really good,” Harry compliments. Louis knows he’s probably lying, at least a little bit, but takes the compliment anyway.

After they eat, they clean up and sit on the balcony for a little while, watching as the setting sun begins to paint the sky oranges and reds. Harry’s swapped his beer for wine now, but Louis’ stayed with the beer for the time being.

“I wanna tell you something.” Harry says suddenly, putting down his wine glass.

“You don’t want to get married anymore,” Louis deadpans.

Harry laughs, shaking his head. “No. I wanna do something. Something a little different. Something big. But it’s a good thing! I think it’s a really good thing.”

“Okay...”

Harry turns his body towards Louis and takes a deep breath. “I’m gonna… audition to be in a movie? Like, a real-actual movie. I contacted the director, it’s Christopher Nolan, like  _ the  _ Christopher Nolan. He said I just have to audition. Just like anyone else would. I don’t even want a big role, I just wanna get my feet wet. I know it’s kind of a big thing and I don’t expect you to be on board-” 

“Hey. Hey!” Louis exclaims, putting his beer down. “Slow down for a moment, would you? Will you let me say something about this? Can you stop rambling for a bloody minute?”

Harry sighs, defeated. He nods. Louis watches his leg bounce rapidly, nervous. “If you had given me a chance to reply, I was going to say how proud of you I am. I’m so fucking proud of you, Harry.”

“Really?” Harry asks, voice soft and quiet and just plain vulnerable.

“Of course I am, why the hell wouldn’t I be? This is  _ so  _ amazing, baby! I’m so proud of you, I don’t even know how to convey how fucking proud I am. You’re doing your own thing and that’s absolutely incredible. What’s the movie, love? I wanna know all about this.” 

Harry smiles now, his breathing seems to slow down and he’s finally stopped bouncing his goddamn leg. He takes a big gulp from his wine glass. “I don’t know why I was so nervous about telling you that. I told my mum I was nervous and she said that I had no reason to be, obviously, and I knew that. But I still was. I would’ve told you sooner, too, but I didn’t know how.”

“It’s okay. I’m still really proud of you. This is a really good thing, H.”

“So, um, it’s actually a World War two film. It’s called Dunkirk. You know, trapped on the beaches-”

“Yes, I vaguely remember learning about that in school I think. Would you have to play a character that dies?”

Harry laughs. Louis realizes now that he’s got tears in his eyes. “No, I don’t think so. I would hope not. Would you be able to handle that?”

“I don’t know. But I know your fans would lose their shit.”

“Assuming I get the role I’ll have to spend a shitload of time filming, and I’ll have to cut my hair. It’s a really big thing but I might not even get the part.”

“You’re going to.” Louis says confidently. “You are going to get the goddamn part, Harry. But does this mean you want to, like, do solo stuff?”

“Yeah, I think so. I don’t know what. I mean, I have all those songs -  _ we  _ have all those songs - they’re not doing any good sitting in notebooks. If the band is on hold for right now, I might as well do  _ something,  _ right? Unless you don’t want me to or something, then we can have a discussion and I’ll probably listen to whatever you have to say. I’ll do it. Whatever it may be. We’ve already talked about lining up an issue of that magazine Another Man, you know that one? That could be, like, my thing… it covers the fashion and the interview and everything and I don’t know.” 

“You’re rambling again.” Louis points out uselessly. “I want you to know that I  _ never  _ want to stop you from doing anything that you want to do. If it’s important to you, then it’s important to me too. If it’s something you want to do, I want it to be done. I never wanna hold you back or be the reason you don’t take a career risk. You’re going to do this, Harry. You’re going to do this and you’re going to stun the fuck out of Christopher Nolan and every other person on the set of that movie. And when filming starts, we’ll figure out a way to see each other.”

“That might be hard.”

Louis laughs. “We said we didn’t mind hard, didn’t we? Everything’s always hard, but we always get through it. I’ll sneak over and visit you on the set if I have to. You will be in this Dunkirk movie. We will see each other, we will get through this, and you’ll be back up on a music stage as soon as we can get you there, okay? I told you that I never expected anything to be easy.”

“You want messy.”

“This is anything but messy, my love. This is amazing. I’m so fucking proud of you. I love you.”

Harry smiles, and that warm feeling is back again. He doesn’t think it will ever leave this time. He’s looking at Louis now as the sun sets again and marks the end of their surprisingly warm and sunny December day and thinks about how Louis cooked him dinner, Officially Proposed for the who even knows  _ what  _ time (Harry doesn’t really care). He’s looking at Louis now and realizing how goddamn in love he really is.

“Where’s your camera, baby?” Louis asks, getting up and heading into the bedroom. 

“On the nightstand. Was taking pictures last night.” 

“Were you? Of what?” 

Harry shrugs. “Nothing much. Why do you need it now?” 

“I want to take a picture of you.” 

“Oh, don't do that.” 

“Hold up your hand. The one with the rings. You look pretty.” 

Harry rolls his eyes, but poses for the picture anyway. Louis takes the picture and starts looking through the pictures that have been taken. “Harry!” He shrieks, mouth wide open in shock. “This is a picture of me! Fucking sexed out and naked!” 

“There's a few. I told you that I was taking pictures last night. There's nothing to suggest I took them and your dick isn't in any of them, so it doesn't matter. You looked pretty. You're always better in front of the camera as opposed to behind it.” 

“Oh, thanks, love.” 

Harry grins at him.

**. . .**

“Hazza,” Louis whispers, brushing Harry’s hair out of his face. “Wake up, pumpkin. Come on.” 

Harry groans, shaking his head. “Not ready to.” 

“Sunrise is gorgeous, baby, you have to see it.” 

“Mhm. Fine. Then we can take a shower together?” 

Louis laughs softly, kissing Harry’s head. “Sure.” 

For the remaining days of their vacation, Harry and Louis try not to look at their phones. They exchange Christmas gifts (a new Polaroid for Harry and a pretty-looking custom necklace for Louis). They eat dinner together and drink wine and beer and take long walks on the beach. They wake up for every single sunrise because they're simply too beautiful to miss. Louis steals about a million little moments throughout the entire trip, moments he wouldn't trade for the entire world. 

He reassures Harry time and time again that he wouldn't trade  _ any  _ of this. Because as long as they're still struggling, as long as they're fighting, it means that they're still together. They're still together and madly in love and going to start properly planning a fucking  _ wedding.  _ Yes, if he could, Louis would take away all of this harsh world from Harry. He’d block it out and make it stop. But he can't do that, so for now they fight through. 

Louis feels as though he's loved a lot through his life, but nothing has compared to this week with Harry. It feels like everything is magnetized now. The love he felt for Harry before, the love that was  _ always  _ there, burning like a flame, has become even stronger. That flame has never dwindled, never blown out even for a second. He's always loved Harry, he always will love Harry. This weeklong vacation has proved that to Louis (as if it weren’t already pretty proven). 

“You seem like you're thinking,” Harry says, staring at Louis from across the plane. 

“I am.” 

“What about?” 

_ So many things.  _ “You. Always you, baby.” 

Harry smiles, getting up to come sit across from Louis. He looks beautiful even now; a little tired, just a little bit tan, gorgeous all around. “What about me? Good things, I hope.” 

“Always. I could never think a single bad thing about you.”

“Okay, good. I love you.” 

“And I love you. What are we gonna do when we land?” 

Harry sighs, sitting back in his chair. He forms a little crease in his forehead as he thinks, Louis’ tempted to lean forward and kiss it away. “We sleep. For a long time. And we have a meeting discussing the following year, and then we go home.” 

“Right. Home.”

“It will always be this. Us. Home. Enough. Baby, we could be enough.”

Louis  _ knows  _ he's got an embarrassingly fond expression on his face and he can't even bring himself to care. He knows that Harry’s right, they can be enough, they  _ are  _ enough. Louis wrote that goddamn song for a reason, for this reason right here. “You’ll always be enough.”

  
  


**_THE GREATEST THING YOU’LL EVER LEARN IS JUST TO LOVE AND BE LOVED IN RETURN._ **

**_—EDEN AHBEZ_ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! comments and kudos are always appreciated.  
> follow me on twitter: allgonnamakeit_  
> or my tumblr: alwaysbearound !!


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